FLOWERS and CAGES

by Mary J. Williams

"When we sleep together—"

  "When, not if?"

  "When we sleep together," Colleen continued as though he hadn't interrupted. "I want to trust you enough to let go completely."

  "How do we get there?"

  "Tell me something nobody else knows."

  There wasn't much to tell. Ryder, Ashe, and Zoe knew him inside and out. Long hours together on the road with nothing to do but talk. They shared so much of themselves. Nobody knew him better. But everyone had their secrets. Little things they kept to themselves. Dalton had a few. There was one—exactly the kind of thing Colleen meant. It wasn't an earthshaking revelation. It wouldn't destroy him if it hit the press. Only one other person knew, and he was dead. If he told Colleen.

  "I would never tell another soul."

  Dalton had no reason to believe Colleen. Yet, for some reason, he did. Meeting her emerald gaze, he felt something indefinable pass between them. It was a moment, so brief it might not have happened. Dalton felt it and so did Colleen. He kept his eyes locked with hers.

  "My first night in the state penitentiary. After the lights were out. When I knew without a doubt, this was my new reality. I cried myself to sleep."

  Silently, Colleen closed the distance between them, taking him in her arms. Dalton saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.

  "I survived."

  "Yes, you did." Colleen brushed her lips across his cheek. "But it's wrong that you had to."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  COLLEEN SOMETIMES WONDERED if her feelings about Midas and the people who lived there were unjustly skewed in a negative manner. When her mother remarried—for the first time—moving them from Kansas, Colleen had not been happy. Kansas hadn't been perfect, but leaving meant breaking with friends she had known all her life. Starting over. Her mindset hadn't been the best.

  Arizona wasn't a bad place. It boasted the Grand Canyon, for Christ's sake. But they didn't settle in Phoenix. Or Albuquerque. Or any place resembling civilization. For a girl just entering her teens, it felt like a barren desert. Socially, Colleen found her niche. Academically, she did fine. But she never shook the idea that there was something not quite right about Midas.

  After listening to Dalton's story, Colleen would never again question that feeling. Judge Manfred T. Langley had used his fortune, his undue influence, and his oppressive power to cover up for his worthless son. In the process, he blithely did his best to ruin a life. It was never about Dalton. He could have been anyone. The goal was to maintain the family's lustrous public image. Collier was proof positive that it was all a money-fortified veneer.

  Colleen couldn't help but wonder how Judge Langley continued to clean up his son's messes. It had to be a full-time job—for more than one person. Their world was small, but social media made it difficult to keep anything secret. Perhaps Collier had settled down. Colleen doubted it. More likely, he made his mistakes close to home, where Daddy continued to sweep them away.

  After taking another quick swim, Colleen and Dalton had headed back to Midas. On the drive back, he mentioned the dinner invitation from Tolliver Cline.

  "Do you know the family?"

  "I knew Tolliver's daughter—a little. Rita was a year ahead of me in school. I have a nodding acquaintance with the rest of the family."

  "I thought everybody hung out in small towns."

  "This is Midas, not Mayberry, Dalton. The divides are deep and rarely crossed. Tolliver runs a very successful landscaping business. The northsiders keep him busy. And from what I understand, well compensated. In fact, I didn't think he did any of the physical labor anymore. He has a big crew that takes care of that."

  "Tol seemed like a nice guy. Friendly."

  "I suppose it depends on who you are. My mother does his wife's hair. I work on the family's transportation. But we do not socialize."

  "It's that bad?"

  Dalton looked surprised. Colleen had to remind herself that he was an outsider. It was hard to grasp the way things worked when he hadn't lived here as long as she had.

  "Most residents wouldn't call it good or bad. It just is."

  "What do you call it?"

  "Massively screwed up." Colleen turned the T-Bird onto her street. "My mother likes Midas. As she puts it, every town has its little quirks."

  "Your mother has an interesting way of looking at things."

  "Tell me about it." Like Midas, her mother was hard to explain. "I love her, but I will never understand her. Naturally, that goes both ways. We've learned to live with our differences. Mostly."

  "Families are tricky."

  "You still haven't heard from your brother-in-law?"

  While they swam, Dalton had given Colleen an overview of why he was in Midas. She had always wished for a sibling. Now, she wondered if she had been the lucky one. The life of an only child could be lonely, but there was nobody to surprise her with a knife in the back. Tricky. And terrifyingly treacherous.

  Dalton glanced at his phone, then sighed. "It doesn't make any sense. If I didn't know any better, I would think Maggie hadn't passed on my message."

  Colleen didn't want to open a bigger rift between brother and sister, but she had to ask. "Is that a possibility?"

  "Not long ago, I would have said no. Maggie is too fond of the money I send her every month. But now—after speaking to her—I don't know."

  Pulling to a stop outside her apartment building, Colleen grabbed her bag from the backseat.

  "I say screw the two of them. But I don't have the history or the blood ties."

  Dalton ran a hand through his short, dark hair. "That whole blood is thicker than water thing? In my case, it's pretty much bullshit."

  "It's sad, I know. But you're lucky. You found your real family."

  If she were ever lucky enough to meet the members of Dalton's band, Colleen would have her little fangirl moment. Then, she would thank them. They had been there at the critical times in Dalton's life. When he was young and needed something solid to anchor himself. Through the lean years when they could have let ego and petty arguments tear them apart.

  When it all could have fallen apart, they stood by him. The trial. His time in prison. According to Dalton, they visited every week. Sometimes together, sometimes individually. Every week. Without fail. When he was paroled, his place with the band was there just as promised. Colleen had always admired their music. Now, The Ryder Hart Band was more than four people standing on a stage. Because of Dalton, they were real people. Good and admirable.

  "I'll pick you up about quarter to seven."

  With a nod, Colleen handed Dalton the car keys, then laughed.

  "You've rented my car, but you're rarely behind the wheel."

  "I like watching you drive."

  "The lotion, now the driving. Is this watching thing a fetish you want to tell me about?"

  "If it's a fetish, it just started." Smiling, Dalton ran a hand up her arm. "Blame yourself."

  "That should be creepy."

  "But?"

  "I guess I like to be watched—by you."

  Colleen knew the kiss was coming. It had seemed inevitable from the moment they met. Often, that much anticipation was not a good thing. It turned out to be one of those rare instances when reality actually exceeded anticipation.

  Dalton's strong arms pulled her close, his eyes on her lips. Colleen sighed as he brushed his mouth across hers.

  "Harder," she demanded.

  Instead, Dalton smiled, kissing her lightly. Colleen wound her arms around his neck. Her fingers burrowed into the soft strands of his hair, trying her best to tug him closer.

  "Patience. I want to take my time." Dalton tasted her, his tongue tracing the outline of her mouth.

  "Tease," she said accusingly, but Colleen had to admit, there was something to be said for Dalton's version of slow and sweet.

  Again and again, until Colleen lost track. Dalton's feathered kisses left her wanting more while heightening her senses. She beca
me aware of his hands on her back. On tiptoe, her bare thighs brushed against his, the denim of his jeans impossibly soft. Convinced that Dalton wouldn't alter the pace, she decided to stop worrying and enjoy. That was the moment his arms tightened, and everything changed.

  Dalton's mouth opened over hers, voraciously taking. Happy to oblige, Colleen twined her legs around his hips and held on for a wild ride. Before she knew what had happened, her back was pressed against the car, Dalton's body rubbing deliciously against her front.

  "You taste so damn good," Dalton murmured.

  "No," Colleen sighed when he licked her neck. "It's you."

  In truth, it was the combination. Dalton and Colleen. Fine on their own. Together? Spectacular. Colleen couldn't get enough of him. Dalton seemed to feel the same. She had no idea how long the kiss lasted. Or how they refrained from ripping off their clothes. It wasn't modesty—not on her part. If it weren't for Dalton coming to his senses, who knew how it would have ended.

  "I didn't expect that kiss to get so out of hand," Dalton said, his breath ragged.

  Feeling almost tipsy, Colleen leaned against him for support. She knew her legs worked, remembering how was going to take a little while. Colleen knew if she didn't move soon, she was going to kiss him again. If she did that, the only place they would end up was the bed in her apartment.

  "Dinner. Remember?"

  "Vaguely." Dalton rested his forehead against hers. "I'll leave. Unless you need me to wash your back."

  "I need you to…" There were so many choices. Colleen decided to pick responsible adult. "Go to your motel room. Get cleaned up."

  Colleen pushed Dalton into the driver's seat. Before she could close the door, he took her hand. The heat in his gaze had cooled to a warmth that made her stomach do a slow roll.

  "Thank you for today."

  "Thank you for trusting me."

  When Dalton brushed his lips against her hand, Colleen felt her heart take a funny leap. First her stomach, now her heart? Either there was an odd strain of the flu going around or she was on the brink of something dangerous.

  Standing back, Colleen waved as Dalton pulled the T-Bird away from the curb. She had to remind herself—and continue to do so—that Dalton was fun and games. The second she forgot? The instant she let him become more? Colleen refused to answer those tricky questions.

  The solution was simply. Don't let it happen.

  FOR A SMALL town, Midas had more twists and turns than Stephen King at his finest. It wasn't the roads—they were pretty straightforward. It was the people. The ins and outs of a social and financial hierarchy that needed a program to keep track of the players and their roles.

  When he accepted Tolliver Cline's dinner invitation, Dalton thought he would be eating with a gardener. While he appreciated a man who was self-made, finding out Tolliver was the head of a multi-million-dollar business changed the dynamics of the evening. It made him question the man's motives. What did he want? And what the hell did it have to do with Dalton?

  "Something odd is going on in Midas."

  "That isn't news to me," Colleen smoothed the skirt of her dress. A very pretty pastel green dress that showed off her spectacular legs. "Midas is weird. Last summer they organized a Peach Festival."

  Dalton waited for more information. It didn't come. "Is there a punch line I'm missing?"

  "Nobody grows peaches in Midas. Not enough to warrant a festival." Colleen shook her head. "I know that Area 51 is in New Mexico. I think the aliens landed here."

  "It's a theory. What do you say we put it aside for now?" Teasingly, Dalton poked Colleen on the arm. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

  "Red-blooded human being all the way." Colleen took his hand, placing it in the interesting vicinity of her heart. An inch higher and he would be sliding into second base.

  It took a dose of willpower, but Dalton manned up, returning his hand to the steering wheel.

  "No argument here," he said, clearing his throat.

  Colleen gave a delighted chuckle. "What were you saying?"

  Dalton thought about it. He knew there was a stream of thought in there somewhere. Then it clicked. "Why is anybody in this town interested in me?"

  "Well…"

  Dalton shot Colleen a grin. "Besides you. If I were going to cause trouble, I would have done it long ago. A year after I was released, we had the number one album in the country. My name suddenly meant something. I could have sued for a myriad of reasons. Judge Langley would have topped a long, illustrious list of defendants."

  "Why didn't you?"

  "Besides the fact that I wanted to forget it ever happened?"

  "That's reason enough," Colleen agreed.

  She placed a comforting hand on his leg. It was crazy. A minute ago, their exchange was filled with teasing innuendo. When Dalton touched Colleen, his thoughts had been filled with how the weight of her breast would feel in his hand. There was nothing sexual about Colleen rubbing his thigh. It warmed his heart, not his libido. The dichotomy intrigued him. As did the woman.

  "I had my friends to consider. The publicity involved in a messy legal battle was not what we were looking for. We made a pact. The Ryder Hart Band was about the music. Period. We kept our interviews to a minimum and then, we only spoke about the band. Our private lives remained exactly that."

  "In this day and age. With so many gossip sites and twenty-four-hour news cycles to fill, I don't know how you've done it."

  "It's simple. Unity. If none of us talks—no matter the provocation—the story dies. Fire needs oxygen, Colleen."

  "The gossip dies from suffocation? Kind of a grisly image." Colleen rubbed her hands together, a diabolically gleeful smile on her lips. "I like it."

  That made Dalton beam like a proud brother. "Zoe would love you."

  "Take the next left," Colleen instructed.

  They traveled east, as Tolliver instructed him that morning. Colleen hadn't hesitated when Dalton asked if she knew the way. She told him that she might not know where everyone in Midas lived, but she knew where the Cline family lived. About ten years ago, they built their house from the ground up. The construction had taken almost two years, dominating coffee klatch conversations. Which naturally filtered to Colleen via her mother. No matter how hard she tried, there was no avoiding town gossip. Unless she cut her mother out of her life. Tempting at times, that was not going to happen.

  "Tolliver dangled a big, juicy carrot when he asked us to dinner. Why has my return put the judge's panties in a twist? However, he didn't mention his agenda. A man with money who made it clear he was not a fan of the Langley family does not casually host a stranger for the evening."

  "Unless he wants something." Colleen guided him through the next turn. "I agree. The machinations between factions in Midas would make Richard III look like a piker."

  Putting on the brakes, Dalton pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road.

  "What?" Colleen asked.

  "Exactly." He shifted into park. "What are we doing? This isn't my home turf, but why should I play by their rules? Langley. Cline. Am I their pawn? Is it about them or me? And why the hell should I care?"

  "Curiosity?"

  Frustrated, Dalton let out a puff of air. "Isn't there a cliché about that?"

  "I know. The cat dies every time. Then makes a miraculous recovery."

  "He does?" Dalton didn't remember that part but was willing to take Colleen's word for it.

  "Knowledge is power, my friend—even if it's a one-sided version."

  "Fair enough." Dalton set the car in motion. "Just in case, I let Ryder know where we'll be."

  "Good idea. A little paranoia never hurts."

  As they rounded the next curve, Tolliver Cline's house came into view. Dalton let out a whistle. He hadn't known what to expect, but this was a surprise. It rivaled Judge Langley's home for size and scope. The ostentatious design didn't seem to fit the man he met that morning. D
alton didn't envy the person who had the job of washing the windows. Glass lined every one of the three levels. The view wasn't much. A few trees and a thirsty-looking field. To the side, a backhoe sat in front of a rickety old shed.

  "Soon to be a swimming pool. Covered, if the grapevine has it right—which it usually does."

  Dalton turned off the engine. Wooden stakes and long lengths of string stretched out, encompassing most of the field. From the look of the outline, the pool would be huge. "I guess if you want to put down roots in the middle of nowhere, you might as well be comfortable."

  "Is this comfort?" Colleen asked as he helped her from the car. "Not for me. I couldn't relax inside that gilded airplane hangar."

  "That's it," Dalton laughed. "I knew it reminded me of something."

  Before he could use the gold gargoyle knocker, the door swung open.

  "Welcome."

  As he had that morning, Tolliver held out his hand to Dalton. That was the only similarity. He wouldn't have recognized their smartly dressed host. Precisely creased trousers had replaced the worn jeans. His shirt was silk instead of cotton. And he smelled like French cologne, not dirt and grass clippings. This man wasn't Tol, the gardener. He was a Tolliver, head to toe.

  Dalton understood his feelings weren't logical. He wasn't exactly dressed like a bum. His custom-made shoes, tailored slacks, and linen shirt cost more than his first car. Judging a man on what he wore—expensive or bargain basement—wasn't normally how Dalton rolled. Something felt off. Until he knew what was on Tolliver's mind, it would be impossible for him to view his host with an unjaundiced eye.

  As though sensing his reticence, Colleen drew Tolliver's attention her way. She took the man's hand, shaking it, her smile warm.

  "Hello, Mr. Cline. Thank you for inviting me."

  "It is something we should have done long ago. Come," Tolliver smiled back. "My daughter and her husband are joining us tonight. She's looking forward to catching up with you."

  Dalton saw the flash of surprise in Colleen's eyes. After what she had told him, he didn't blame her. Rita hadn't been her friend. They went to the same school, different years, and according to Colleen, did not socialize.